terça-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2009

The Northern Sky 1.3

“Well,” said Michaela. “let’s recap to put it all into perspective. First of all, you’re four years older than me and got married at the age of seventeen to that wealthy Brazilian tourist who came to the islands. And you went away at once after he swept you off your feet. You’ve written me a steady stream of letters and I’ve answered most of them. In fact, I still have them in a shoebox in my wardrobe. But I feel that your leters are hiding something. You didn’t tell me everything, did you?”“Ah, yes,” Samantha agreed. “I did talk about the sun and our local country club and our cocktail parties and the downside too that I used to sweat a lot at first because I wasn’t used to the heat. I told you about the little restaurant I opened and then sold later on for a tidy profit when I got tired of it. After all, there is no need for me to work really because Andre makes so much money as a banker and a few successful trips to Las Vegas and a few ship to shore investments.”“It all sounds so exciting, so exotic!” enthused Michaela. “I wish I could see it!”“You will one day, I’m sure. But for now, I had to get away from there. After all these years, I needed some breatheing space.”“Yes, why did you come back so suddenly?”“Hey,” said Samantha all of a sudden, changing tack. “Do you have a couple of tumblers? I could do with a drink”.“Would you like some tea?”“No, something stronger.” She stood up and rummaged thorugh her bag, producing a bottle of duty free Johnny Walker red label. “You can only buy this aboard,” she informed her cousin. “It’s pure and smoothe as a mountain stream. Care to join me?”Michaela had tiptoed out of the room to get the glasses so as not to disturb her sleeping father. She gave a start.“Whisky?”“Come on,” said Samantha. “It’s been a long time.”“But I so rarely drink,” Michaela protested. “It does terrible things to the liver and can cause dependence.”“Don’t be such a stuck up square,” Samantha argued. Michaela conceded. “Very well, I suppose one drop can’ t do any harm, or at least not much.”

Samantha pored a generous helping for herself and half filled Michaela’s glass. She took a long swig and refilled at once. “That’s better,” she sighed. “Now, let me tell you my story.”Michaela drew her knees up expectantly and stared at her cousin, who had already a little spark in her eyes from the whiskey, which she continued to drink.“First of all,” said Samantha. “How’s your sex life?”Michaela, the shy and timid Shetlander was rather taken aback by this sudden question, but ended up confessing to her cousin that the boy, Callum, whom she had written her about years before had consummated her. Samantha giggled.“So, you’re not quite the saint after all, are you? But you are compared to me!”“How come?”The emigre sighed.“I was always passionate,” she went on in a quiet voice. “I was romantic too. Romantic and passionate, a powerful and possible daft combination. It leaves you vulnerable. I married Andre. As you know, he’s Brazilian and Latin men are passionate and romantic. Just like me. I delivered my self to him entirely. I put my love and all my chips were bet on him. It was always wonderful. But then one day after a couple of years, a neighbor of mine who likes to gossip told me that Andre and his friends had been fooling around. On Friday nights they would go out for a drink with the boys, but ended up going to a brothelAs . some women there seem to take that sort of thing for granted. But I was shocked and awed, really upset. I couldn’t get over it. I was hurt.”She took another swallow of booze and set her glass down carefully before going on.“I confronted him,” she went on. “And he didn’t deny it. apologized. But I found out that he’d been doing it for years, and with countless faceless prostitutes just for the fun of it. I knew that he did not love these women, oh not at all, but he did want variety. And that got me to thinking myself.”Michaela looked at her agape.“What did you do?”“I decided to get me a little variety my self.”“Oh dear.”“Revenge can be sweet.””Surely not.!”One after noon, I went to a bar by myself, provocatively dressed and sat there. It wasn’t long before a man offered to buy me a drink. With in an hour, I was in a hotel room with him and I let him ravish me.”“God bless my soul!”“But it wasn’t enough.”“No? How could it not be?”Samantha lit a cigarette, ignoring the other’s look of disapproval. Seeing that it would be pointless to boject and burning with curiosity, Michaela handed her an ashtray.“I needed to give him the full treatment, but keep it to myself. I decided I would have to turn a few tricks of my own.”“Turn a what?”“I’d need to, you know…?”Michaela had a feeling that she knew what was going to be said, but couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.“Have you ever seen a film called Belle du Jour?”“No”.“It’s French. It’s a bout a lonely French housewife who decides to become a prostitute just for the fun of it. I’d seen it on TV a few weeks before. So I decided to emulate her.”“I can’t believe it!” cried Michaela in horror, taking a gulp of whisky. And yet, with the drink affecting her, she felt a curious thrill about it all.“Well, you better believe it sweetheart,” said the slurred voice of Samantha, taking a long pull on her cigarette and another swallow of whiskey.“OK, but did you get arrested?”Samantha leaned forward and looked at her wisely, a crooked finger raised in the air.“Aha, “ she said. That’s what you don’t know. You see, in Brazil, it’s not a crime to be a prostitute. It’s a crime to be a pimp, but if a woman wants to seel her body, there’s nothing, legally under the present statutes and legislation to stop her. Many people are campaigning to close this loophole, but it is unlikely that anything will come of it in the near future.”“Wow! So what did you do?” Michaela was really curious now.“A lot of women just do it on the streets. You go to certain parts of town and stand there. Sooner or later, you get picked up.”“How much do you get for that?’“Eqauivalent of a fiver”.“Is that all?”“Well, five pounds there goes a long way,” Samantha informed her. “There are more swanky establishements where they charge up to a hundred quid, but I wasn’t in it for the money. I was in it to satisfy my revenge.”“And what did Andre say?’“I never told him, it’s enough that I knew”“Shiver me timbers! But how could you go through with it?”Samantha giggled.“The first time was a hoot! I was so nervous. I got there and stood on the corner for about forty minutes. Other women nearby were getting picked up, but they were well known to the guys who passed. A couple stared at me as if to say hey don’t invade our turf but I ignored them. Then this man came along, he must have been about fifty-five and he asked me how much. I gave him a ridiculously low price. I’d overheard others protesting the high price of the other women, so I put it so low that he couldn’t refuse. He obviously thought I was some dumb foreigner who didn’t understand the money there. I just wanted to get it over with. He said yes and we went to this little hotel that rents rooms by the hour. The standard is half an hour. We went in and we both took our clothes off. It was over quickly. He just lay on top of me and did it. then he stood up, put his clothes on, paid me and left. I didn’t even get his name and I never saw him again.”Michaela said nothing. She was horrifed and yet, intrigued.“I lay on the bed till the half hour was up and someone knocked on the door. I got dressed and went downstairs. Some of the women who had left with other guys were back. I decided to stay a bit longer. I waited another twenty minutes and another guy came along, an older man, late sixties at least. He haggled the price and asked me to do some pretty weird stuff. I said no way but I gave in to a couple of his demands. This one was different, a chatterbox. Told me his whole life story and wanted to know everything about me. He also wanted my guarantee that he was the first one today. It’s funny. They all want to go out with hookers, they know that the hookers have tons of guys but that doesn’t bother them so long as they’re the first of the day. Funny that.”

Quem sou eu

A writer trying to get her name around, hence the blog. But before that, I'm a dedicated wife. I have a wonderful husband called Norbert who looks after me and allows me to pursue my writing carier. In my free time I love walking and swimming. I also like dogs and have a red, smooth-coated, short-haired miniature Dachshund called Smock. BTW, Michele is my nom de plume, unique, like Cher! From the outset I would like to make a solemn promise to all my fans or casual passers by: under no circumstances will I indulge in opaque argot or comma sprinkling in my writing. THAT is my promise.